Coffee and Fugitives
by detective-sweetheart
Summary: The stupid thing is that she probably loves the shift and the guys in Homicide more than anything else, but it's only now that she's so close and yet so far from them that she'll admit it, if only to herself.


**A/N: Yeah, so...muse is kinda stuck on H:LOTS at the moment...and SVU, so there you have it. I own nothing, except Cavello, but he probably won't make another appearance unless Kay sticks around the Fugitive squad in this AU of mine...and that's about it. **

* * *

Her new partner in the Fugitive squad is kind of a jerk.

What amuses her about this is that she has already been there for a month, and she still thinks this of him.

Her desk is a mess, unlike the organized thing that it was back in Homicide. FBI wanted posters and various sketches litter the surface, and so do the usual stacked, empty Styrofoam cups of coffee. The phone is hidden somewhere amongst the mess, so when it rings, she doesn't notice it at first.

"Hey, Howard, you gonna answer that?"

Kay looks up, startled, by the sound of Dennis Cavello's voice, and then rolls her eyes.

"No," she says, with just a hint of sarcasm lacing her voice. "You go ahead."

* * *

Cavello rolls his eyes at her and she wants to kick his feet under the desk, like she used to do to Felton.

But she doesn't, because he isn't Felton. And this isn't Homicide, and Cavello is likely to complain to the lieutenant if she does. It makes her lean back in her chair, while he goes rifling through the mess of her desk for the phone, and she thinks as she does this and he does that, that she really does miss the first shift.

"Cavello, Fugitive squad."

Kay reaches for the cup of coffee with the lid on it, takes a sip and makes a face. No matter how many times she tells Cavello that she takes it with sugar and no cream, it always ends up different.

* * *

She muses over this and then over the fact that the guys in Homicide never got it wrong.

Of course, the guys in Homicide were always a lot more likely to pay attention to her.

Here, she is like a fish out of water, out of her league in a squad of men who couldn't be more obvious that they don't want her here. They won't say anything outright, because of regulations. And they won't talk smack about her on the streets, because whether or not they want to admit it, they'd really rather not face down the murder police.

The thought amuses her…until Cavello waves a hand in front of her face, impatiently.

"We got a situation, Howard. Get a move on."

* * *

Cavello is a sergeant, too, which is why Kay follows, silently, instead of getting in his face like she might have if he were Munch or Meldrick, or even Bayliss.

He is also in the habit of dipping into a can of chewing tobacco every now and then, which her Homicide colleagues are not, and which she finds incredibly disgusting, even though she herself used to smoke. As Cavello talks to her, she tries to ignore this, but it's hard to.

"This ain't Homicide," he says, for what's got to be the thousandth time that month. "You ain't gonna be dealing with dead bodies unless they pull a piece on you, and then you only shoot to wound, not to kill."

"They got a gun in my face, I'm gonna do what I have to," Kay tells him, coolly, because it is what she learned in Homicide, and if Cavello wants to take changes, it's on him, but it certainly won't be on her.

Cavello gives her a look. "I answered the phone, I'm primary," he says, and Kay is tempted to tell him that she doesn't give a damn, but manages to keep from doing it.

* * *

She makes a face behind his back when he turns to spit into the drinking fountain on the main floor of the building where she is now, on the other side of Baltimore from where Homicide is.

"You know, people actually have to drink out of that thing," she says. "You know the regulations on dip spitting, Cavello."

He turns to look at her and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, and if you got a problem, don't drink out of the damn fountain, Howard. No one ever said you had to."

He says her name in a way that makes her want to smack him, which, if he were one of the guys (which is an ironic thought, because technically, he _is_ one of the guys, just not one of _her_ guys), she probably would. But because he isn't, she doesn't.

When she doesn't say anything, Cavello grabs the keys out of her hand, and continues walking.

"I didn't come to the department looking to get partnered with someone who don't know how to handle herself," he says, flatly. Kay gives him a look.

"I was Homicide, idiot," she replies. "I can probably handle myself better than you."

* * *

The sad thing about this is that it's probably true. Cavello is one of those guys who probably should have retired out a couple of years ago, but because he didn't, he got pushed into one of the less high profile squads.

Less high profile, solely because the great City of Baltimore doesn't want its citizens to know when people manage to escape state or county or city custody to get out onto the streets again.

So the fugitive squad keeps its mouth shut and if someone ends up dead, then it goes to Homicide, and that's that.

Kay knows that this is why she has tried harder than some of her new colleagues to find these people who have committed crimes she doesn't know about, and doesn't _want_ to know about.

"Yeah, yeah," says Cavello, finally, disgustedly. "Listen, Howie, I don't give a rat's ass if you were in Homicide, that don't mean squad not."

She yanks the keys back out of Cavello's hands, harder than necessary and enough to make him swear as the edges scrape roughly against his palm, her temper finally flaring to the surface, momentarily.

"_Don't_ call me 'Howie'," she says, and storms off without him.

* * *

The last time someone called her that, it was Felton and it was only to get on her nerves, but somehow, the nickname stuck, even though he was the only one who ever dared call her by it.

She misses him, a lot, but it's one of those things that she's going to keep to herself. She hears Cavello following her and knows she's going to get the riot act once they're in the car, but she doesn't care.

Sure enough, as soon as they pull out of the precinct parking lot, he starts in on her.

"You got a lot of nerve talkin' to me like that," he tells her. "Been in the squad a month and you already think you own the place, I got news for you, _Sergeant_ Howard, you don't own nothing."

"Never said I did," Kay says, evenly, trying to focus on the road instead of the way he's spitting out the window. Cavello glares.

"This ain't gonna be your collar," he informs her. She rolls her eyes.

"Never said I wanted it," she replies. "Trust me, Cavello, this idiot's all yours."

* * *

The hostility isn't exactly new, but it isn't something she's used to either, even after a month. If their lieutenant were cut from the same cloth as the likes of Lieutenant Giardello, he might have done something about it, but no.

Kay wonders, then, idly, as she makes the turn that will take them to where they're supposed to be, what Gee and the others are doing now. Moments later, she finds herself blinking, quickly, and avoiding Cavello's gaze, because heaven forbid he have to deal with her getting _emotional. _

"So, what are we looking at, anyway?" she asks, to keep her mind off Homicide and the men that she misses so much that it actually hurts.

"Guy skipped out of county custody; they think he's in Baltimore, but the Feds want him, which is why they're scrambling to kiss our asses so we'll save theirs," says Cavello, sounding mildly satisfied by this. Kay bites back the sarcastic retort she feels coming, and instead nods.

"County, huh?" she says, and sees Cavello nod out of the corner of her eye.

"Yeah, county," he answers. "Bunch of idiots, the lot of 'em, how the hell are they gonna let this guy just walk on out of their buildings and drive away…in an unmarked squad car, no less."

Kay laughs at this, and laughs harder when she notices Cavello glaring at her, even though she doesn't particularly know why.

* * *

It's because it hurts, she realizes, later on, when the address that the county boys give them turns up nothing except for a list of normal hangouts for this guy they're looking for. She takes a sip from the cup of coffee she brought with her, and mulls this over.

This stupid rotation system that the department is now on has her all screwed up and people are getting switched out left and right, but no one seems to want to do anything about it. It's better for department morale, says the brass. Let them go to a new squad, experience something different for a while, and maybe, just maybe, they'll be able to go back.

"This ain't funny," Cavello tells her for the hundredth time. "You think this is funny, don't you, having to chase some asshole across the city and maybe even up and down all of freaking Maryland. Tell you what, Howard, we don't find this guy and he kills someone…"

"It gets sent to Homicide, and maybe since the guys there are more competent than you, they'll get somewhere," says Kay, and ignores the incensed look that he gives her.

"You got nerve," he says, again, but this time, she cuts him off.

"I got the murder police," she says, a warning that isn't really a warning as much as it is an implied threat that isn't _really _a threat, though she knows if she asked, the guys would come around to shut these idiots in the Fugitive squad up. But she won't ask, and knows that she won't ask, so she continues. "Shut the hell up and let's just get this done, huh?"

* * *

But it's never that easy, and it's never going to be that easy, so after a couple of hours of trying to track this guy down, they go back to the building, to report to the lieutenant.

After it's done, Kay wanders into the break room for another cup of coffee, because the events of the day are already starting to wear her down. It's funny, she thinks. Back in Homicide, she only got tired when she'd been forced to stay in the squad room or on the streets for long amounts of time. She never got tired of dealing with Felton, even when he was pissing her off, and never got tired of hearing Munch, though she'll never tell him that, and she never got tired of playing peacemaker when Frank and Tim got pissed off at each other.

She never got tired of the shift as a whole, or the cases, though most of the time, the cases were what threatened to burn her out.

Here, there is only Cavello to burn her out, and not much else.

With this in mind, Kay downs the remainder of this new cup and pours herself another one, to keep herself awake, partly, and to keep her mind on how bad this squad room's coffee is (not any worse than Homicide's, really, but bad enough), instead of how much she'd love to stick to Cavello, just once.

* * *

She passes the rest of the day like this, because she pissed Cavello off enough that when he wandered into the break room, it was only to inform her that he'd told the lieutenant everything she'd said to him, and she was now on a desk for the rest of the day.

It doesn't matter, she'd replied, just to piss Cavello off even further; I wouldn't have ridden with you again, anyway.

So Cavello took one of the other guys who's supposedly a better cop than she is because he's a _guy_ and doesn't get _emotional_ and doesn't keep harping about the murder police, and how they're so damned _incredible_.

You're right, Cavello, Kay thinks, as she drinks another coffee and starts in on the rather large amount of paperwork that she's behind on, again. They are incredible. A lot more so than you'll ever be.

She won't say this to his face, of course, because she is better than that and has no desire to bring any heat on the shift she left and the guys she loves, probably more than anything else in the world…not that she'd ever tell them that.

But she gets the feeling, then, that somehow, they know this.

She pours another cup of coffee as she downs the remainder of the latest one, and thinks that maybe, knowing that will help make her feel somewhat better about where she is.


End file.
